


Co

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28559067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: T’Pol can’t sleep if Hoshi can’t.
Relationships: Hoshi Sato/T'Pol
Kudos: 28





	Co

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

In theory, sharing a bed with another being, _especially_ one as erratic as a _human_ partner, should never be conducive to sleep—it’s one more set of sounds and motion and fluctuating temperatures to contend with, as well as less space on the mattress and blanket. Despite all logic to the contrary, Hoshi has had a largely positive effect on T’Pol’s sleep patterns. She rarely crosses the fictitious line to T’Pol’s side of the bed except when invited. She rarely stirs or speaks or even snores in her sleep, though T’Pol knows several other members of the crew that are renowned for the sounds they make at night. Hoshi tends to stay a level, lukewarm temperature, and she tends to wake up exactly how she fell asleep, which, as of late, has become more and more often a spot in T’Pol’s arms. 

The only real issue comes in something less tangible, less manageable: the growing bond between them. The more nights they spend together, and the more T’Pol allows Hoshi to occupy her thoughts during the day, the more T’Pol becomes accustomed to the whisper of Hoshi’s mind against her heart. When she lies on her side, pressed tight to Hoshi’s back—her favourite position—she can not only hear the steady thrum of Hoshi’s pulse, but the quiet murmur of her thoughts. On peaceful nights, when the mission’s been slow and simple and Hoshi’s done well, this is a lilting song that T’Pol willingly dives into—she lets it wash over her in gentle waves that lull her off to sleep. She finds comfort in Hoshi’s comfort, serenity in the warmth of Hoshi’s back and the brush of her bare skin where T’Pol’s chin is hooked over her shoulder and T’Pol’s arms are around her waist. Sometimes Hoshi wakes with her sleeveless blue nightshirt rolled all the way up beneath her breasts, because T’Pol has subconsciously sought _more_ skin—more points of contact. On other nights, Hoshi’s whole being is a storm that bangs against T’Pol’s swiftly-fastened shutters. Tonight the storm isn’t colossal, but it’s turbulent enough to keep T’Pol’s eyes open far longer than she’d like. 

It’s her own folly. She should’ve paid more attention to her lover as soon as they retired, because the alpha ship was arduous and taxing on them both, and a simple backrub could’ve soothed this away. It’s too late now to get up and apply Vulcan neuro-pressure—the process needs time to work, and they haven’t got enough left before the morning. Hoshi, at least, needs to be rested for tomorrow. 

But sometimes humans are easier to calm than T’Pol gives them credit for, and words might be enough. Even though Hoshi’s given no sign of being awake, T’Pol knows as much and asks against her ear, “What’s wrong?”

Hoshi minutely stiffens in T’Pol’s arms. Her spine straightens, legs shifting beneath the blanket that covers them both. She doesn’t try to pretend she’s still asleep, but she lies, “Nothing.”

T’Pol isn’t so strong a telepath that she can read Hoshi’s mind word-for-word, but she knows the general feelings of the people she’s closest to. She knows Hoshi’s bristling. She moves one of the hands pressed flat against Hoshi’s stomach to trace slow circles, attempting to be soothing, like talking a wild Sehlat down from pouncing. Hoshi lets out a deep breath but doesn’t betray her secret. 

At least T’Pol can guess where the anxiety’s coming from. She notes, “You did an excellent job on the bridge today.” Normally, she’d add rank, but she never does in her own quarters—bad enough that she’s surrendered to a relationship with a subordinate at all, even if she can hide behind the technicality of being a mere observer with a separate human crew. “The Mrennenimian language was vastly different than anything in the Universal Translator’s databanks. No one expects you to instantly decipher an entirely new language on your own.”

As soon as the words are out of T’Pol’s mouth, Hoshi’s abruptly rolling over. It forces T’Pol’s arms to go lax, head lifting out of the way to avoid colliding with Hoshi’s. Nose to nose, Hoshi mutters, “Are you sure a _Vulcan_ translator couldn’t have done it?” She sounds a tinge petulant, difficult, but less so than most humans T’Pol’s come in contact with. Hoshi can at least be reasoned with. 

T’Pol tells her flat out: “A Vulcan translator could not have done it.”

There’s a brief pause. T’Pol watches the faint starlight through the viewport dance across Hoshi’s dark eyes. She has a soft beauty to her that would do well on Vulcan, although T’Pol could imagine many of her colleagues overcoming their prejudice in favour of such an exotic creature. There are still moments where T’Pol finds her fingertips tracing down Hoshi’s rounded ears, marveling in the difference, all the little things that make Hoshi strange and captivating. In truth, T’Pol wouldn’t want to share her. And she’s at her most precious when she’s happy, so it’s good to see some of the tension ebb away. 

She quietly admits, “That does make me feel better.”

“Good. Then go to sleep.” T’Pol leans forward to press a kiss against Hoshi’s forehead, and then she takes hold of Hoshi’s shoulder and easily maneuvers Hoshi back around—Hoshi lets herself be rolled onto her side, facing out, so T’Pol can wrap around her. 

T’Pol sets her chin on Hoshi’s shoulder and can instantly feel the difference. Maybe the comparison was enough, but it’s more likely that just having T’Pol’s assurance and approval meant something to her. T’Pol’s honoured to have such importance in Hoshi’s mind. 

Hoshi’s mind gradually subsides into the tranquil sea it should be. T’Pol knows the instant she’s fallen asleep, and also that her dreams are going well—she’ll wake up refreshed and happy. Only then does T’Pol let herself drip off, guarding her human through the night.


End file.
